


The Ninth

by AzTheDragon



Category: Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:18:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzTheDragon/pseuds/AzTheDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Centuries ago, the Norisu Nine made the ultimate sacrifice in the battle against the Sorcerer. They all lost their lives, one after another, until only one remained. To Randy, this is just a sad story. To Satoru, this is a future he has yet to see. The wheel of fate has never stopped spinning, but now the two ninjas are given the chance to control it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the episode 13th Century Ninja, I hope you will enjoy this work that spawned from a few headcanons of mine and an RP with a friend.

Confused images and faint sounds...

The clash of metal, roars and screams of panic...

Then a deafening explosion and such an intense heat that burned all his senses away, casting him into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.

When he woke up with barely an idea of what had just happened, Randy could only lay where he was and take gasping breaths, eyes closed against the painful glare of the daylight. Every part of his body hurt horribly and the cold mud he had landed into was not helping at all.

It took several minutes before the pain subsided, letting him think clearly and try to process what had happened before he was knocked out. The explosion that had invested him must have hurled him pretty far into the wood surrounding Norrisville because he could not hear anything beside chirping birds and rustling leaves.

Finally finding enough strength to open his eyes, Randy looked up at the lush canopy of the trees surrounding him, wincing until his eyes adjusted to the new level of light. He still felt horrible and an awful migraine was slowly creeping to the front of his head, but he still managed to haul himself up to sit against a nearby tree.

Everything was wet and the sky was covered in dark clouds, hinting that it had been raining recently. It was strange, though, because Norrisville was currently going through a series of clear summer days and his clothes were still dry save for where they had been in contact with the mud. If it had rained during the time he was unconscious, then how was it possible that only half of him was wet?

Randy shivered and suddenly realized that he was wearing his normal clothes. Standing on wobbly legs, he started to search for the mask in every pocket of his hoodie and cursed when he could not find it. Even the Nomicon had disappeared.

Panic flooded his already aching mind and he felt like a part of him had been torn away in the worst possible manner. Suddenly, the wood became eerie and unwelcoming with its twisted branches, tangled undergrowth and wild animal calls. The next few minutes were the worst for him as he tried to make sense of what was happening while trying to contain his increasing anxiety over the loss of two important items.

"Alright, alright," he leaned against a nearby tree and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He had to keep his cool if he wanted to solve his current crisis. "Only the Ninja himself can take off his mask, so no one stole it because I was wearing it before ending up here."

Which meant that either the mask had been destroyed along with the Nomicon or he had left them somewhere, then passed out and lost his memory of doing such thing. Between the two, Randy fervently hoped that it would be the second because if it was the first, then he would never be able to forgive himself.

With no other leads, the weary boy trudged through the trees as silently as he could. He didn't want to disturb the fauna. Who knows what kind of weird animals lived in there, and without the mask he would be like a sitting duck waiting to be eaten.

Step after step, the daylight dimmed and in the first hours of the evening it started to rain heavily, making Randy's journey through the trees even more difficult than it already was. He wandered for hours through the growing darkness, his instinct his only lead and forcing himself to cast away the oppressing sense of loneliness.

Finally, after walking for miles, he was met with the rapidly receding line of the wood until he was standing at the edge of small fields with a village in the distance. Everything was dark and lugubrious and he would have missed the houses altogether if it wasn't for the small specks of lights coming from a few windows.

Mustering what little of his strength remained, Randy walked through the muddy fields and reached the few houses made of wood and hay in hopes of finding a temporary shelter. They were built on top of several poles, which kept the floor a foot or so away from the actual ground, and emanated a strong odor of mold and rotten fish.

"Hello? Anybody around?" he paused for a moment, moving his eyes from house to house to see if his call had attracted the attention of someone. "I just need some directions!"

One after another, emaciated faces appeared from behind doors and windows, looking at Randy with such fear and hostility that it made him feel really small. They were silently telling him to leave and not return, that if he decided to jump off a cliff, no one would bother with stopping him. Or rather, they would help by shoving him in the right direction.

"Seriously, I just want to-"

Randy was interrupted by a sudden change in the atmosphere. The night became darker, more ominous, and the villagers retreated back into the safety of their houses, barring windows and doors with wooden planks.

Then a familiar green mist filtered out from the surrounding wood, crawling through the heavy rain in tendrils until it collected itself in the village as a foot high blanket hovering near the ground. The Sorcerer's Stank was so thick that Randy couldn't see his own feet.

There was a loud roar and one of the houses exploded outward, sending pieces of wood and hay everywhere. People ran, screaming in panic as a monster twice their size rampaged its way through the wreckage.

And eventually crossed path with Randy, stopping to growl menacingly at him.

Without the mask however, the boy knew that he could not fight the monster head on, but at the same time he could not leave the unfortunate soul like that. He still considered himself to be the Ninja, with or without his tools, and it was his duty to save people from the Sorcerer's curse.

His instincts spoke before he could formulate a plan of action and Randy took a dive to the side to avoid being crushed by a large paw equipped with sharp claws, then rolled backwards to get out of the way of needle like teeth aiming for his head.

When he was sure that he was well out of the monster's reach, Randy took a better look at it. The most predominant feature was the wide mouth set in the middle of a feminine face, with two large yellow eyes peering down at him while long arms clawed at the ground hidden below the green mist. Strangely enough, the skin was of a pale pink that he had never seen before on a stanked monster.

Quickly moving backwards to stay out of the creature's clawed grasp, Randy scanned the hulking figure for the item he needed to destroy.

The small doll, made of nothing but dirty rags tied by broken ropes, was held high into the air by the monster's long and thin tail. It was emitting the characteristic wispy vapor of a stanked item that needed to be broken in order for the victim to be returned to its human form.

Randy took a really deep breath and slowly let it out, feeling his body automatically assume a ready stance as soon as the idea of an imminent fight crossed his mind. He knew that it would be hard, that he had to be careful or he would really die. Avoiding the first lunge by stepping to the side again, Randy used all of the knowledge he had gained through countless battles to not get hit. His eyes, albeit not focusing on a particular part of the monster, kept track of the sharp claws, the pointy teeth and the unreachable toy.

Whispering voices reached his ears, but he didn't pay any attention to them. All that mattered in that precise moment was to destroy the doll and save the stanked person.

Distancing himself from the monster once again, Randy took another long breath, let it out slowly and repeated the procedure a few more times before charging forward in a quick run. As expected, the monster lunged at him, screeching in rabid anger as its claws sunk into the muddy earth and became stuck.

Randy didn't stop running and used the long arms as a ledge to reach the monster's back from where he jumped, arms outstretched to reach for the doll. Smiling in triumph when his fingers curled around the bundle of old rags, he flipped in midair to avoid another swipe of claws and used all his strength to tear the toy apart.

The effect was immediate.

Green smoke exploded out of the torn rags, dissipating into the air with a screech of disappointment mixed with anger. The monster shrunk in size, losing its horrendous features and leaving in its wake a frightened and confused child.

A moment later, Randy landed on the ground with his back, producing a loud splash and a grunt of pain as mud and floating stank were sent in every direction upon impact. He remained laying there, staring up at the bleak sky as it kept releasing rain on him, then felt the telltale signs of sleep dictated by exhaustion slowly crawl forward to claim his mind.

It was with great effort that he stood up on weakened legs and stumbled towards the destroyed house. For a moment his mind went to the girl, but when he took a glance at her, he was glad that some people were quickly coming out of hiding to aid her. As he climbed through the wreckage to reach the part of the building that was still standing, shouts and calls filled the air. Too tired to make sense of the garbled words, Randy reached a corner that offered shelter from the downpour and huddled into himself, trying to keep warm.

Racked with violent tremors and an annoyingly intensifying cough, sleep hardly came, leaving him to struggle through the whole night with only the aid of his drenched hoodie. By the time morning finally approached, the only thing he was glad for was that there were no more monster attacks and the mist dissipated as soon as the night started to fade away.

It was still raining, though, and even if it was just a light drizzle, it still sent him into a really foul mood.

"You stop a monster from rampaging through the village," Randy whispered to himself, coughing several times in the process. "And they don't even bother checking out if you need help..."

He would have loved to have a fire to warm and dry himself up with, but as it was, he didn't know how to light one without the use of a lighter. Raising his hood above his head to keep most of the morning light from worsening his already bad headache, Randy cast an idle glance at what of the village he could see through the hole punched by the monster.

Without the immediate threat of the stank claiming the most vulnerable of them, people were walking around. Some were assessing the damage while most grabbed tools and departed, probably in search of materials for the repairs.

Seeing that everyone was too afraid to approach him, Randy stood up and instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea and dizziness made him almost double over. He gritted his teeth and forced his body to move the way he wanted, ignoring the violent shivers and protesting muscles until he was near the huge hole in the wall.

Before leaving the shelter of what remained of the house, however, he quickly glanced around and spotted several rags thrown near the wall. He grabbed a few, shouldering them so that they could provide some repair from the cool air, then grabbed a large straw hat and placed it on top of his head.

A couple of minutes later, he was walking down a path running along a river he had never noticed the night before. The village, with its few houses made of wood and hay, had disappeared behind the trees as soon as the road bent to the left, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Lost and sick, Randy did the only thing he could do at the moment. He pressed onwards, ignoring the coughs and the burning of his forehead. The shivers had ceased sometime mid-morning, but that left space for an awful soreness in his muscles and bones, making him stumble at each step he took.

By afternoon, he could not proceed any further and found solace under one of the many trees lining the path, partially sheltered from the still falling drizzle. He huddled on himself, body sore, and wished to be back home, inside his house drinking something warm to cast the cold away.

He closed his eyes and left the world outside his thoughts, enjoying fantasies brought on by the fever. He was so entranced by the sweet smells and familiar images crafted by his mind that he noticed too late when someone was onto him. Suddenly thrown to the ground face first, Randy found that his assailant had pinned his arms behind his back and was using a thick rope to tie his wrists together.

Weakened as he was, the boy opposed no resistance when he was hauled up onto his knees, hat lost and a sharp sword pressed against his throat. Instead, he closed his eyes and listened to the insistent demands coming from the person right behind him.

The voice was that of a young man, probably a few years older than he was, but had a harshness to it that did not admit lies or snarky remarks. If Randy could understand what the guy was saying, he had a feeling that he would feel more threatened than what a sword against his neck could do.

It actually took him several repeats of the same words to finally realize that his attacker was not speaking gibberish, but fluent Japanese. Randy remained in silence for a moment, his mind careening every which way until it came to rest on a memory. It was about him consulting the NinjaNomicon for the first time in his life, when it had imparted him basic lessons to survive his first battle. That had been the moment the book had sneaked in his mind the knowledge of the foreign language for later use. Something he did without realizing when he had read the Art of Healing's forbidden scroll.

"I demand an answer!" the voice sounded really angry, and now that he knew he was speaking Japanese, Randy had no troubles understanding what his captor was saying. "What are you walking this path for?!"

He did not reply to the older boy's question. Instead, he threw his head back with a lightning fast movement and collided with his captor's chest, eliciting a grunt of surprise from him. However, knowing that by throwing him off that way would have surely caused the sword to cut his throat, Randy continued his backward motion until he fell flat to the ground and the sharp blade passed harmlessly above his head.

After taking only a short moment to listen to his assailant crash through the undergrowth without control, Randy rolled onto his side and used a technique he had learned through his training. First to sit up, then to regain his footing onto the muddy ground. Not a moment later, he was facing his rather angered captor and wishing that his streak of bad luck that had accompanied him through the past few days would just end.

Standing a few feet from him, sword held in front of him at the ready, the boy was only slightly taller than he was. Yet, despite the fairly innocuous build, his hazel eyes and the black clothes he was dressed in, mask included, screamed of danger.

Randy would have fought for his freedom, but as soon as he assumed a ready stance, everything blurred and he swayed dangerously on the spot. Colors swirled together and darkened until they were nothing more than a confused jumble of barely visible blobs, leaving him to only guess what was what. When his brain could take no more, the boy pitched forward and collapsed onto the muddy ground, dead to the world.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Satoru Norisawa was a man that did not sway along with his emotions. Years of training and rigid discipline had granted him a very good control over his thoughts and actions. Yet, as he entered the small room, he felt a sudden rush of emotions and magic wash over him. It was just for a moment, but it was so overwhelming that he couldn't help but cling to the door frame with a hand until his mind cleared.

“I am fine,” he whispered, fighting the urge to sink to the floor to rest his suddenly aching body. “No need to concern yourself.”

Thankfully the pain was fading fast and he was able to take a step inside the dimly lit room along with the rest of his clan. Earlier that day his youngest brother Daisuke had returned from a night mission, looking extremely worried and with an unconscious boy slung over his shoulder. Satoru had been informed straight away, but had been unable to see the child himself until that moment due to clan related business.

“Satoru, you do not just say you are well after clinging to the wall,” someone to his left said. Satoru recognized Tadashi's worry before he recognized his voice. He was the healer of the clan after all, and worrying for the health of the others came naturally to him. “I believe you should rest. We will deal with the boy ourselves.”

Satoru was known for his wisdom and patience, but he was also known to be very stubborn at times. So, when he ignored Tadashi's worried words and moved past this brothers assembled in front of him, no one was surprised.

He came face to face with the intruder, and was mildly confused how such a scrawny, young kid could cause such distress and confusion within the clan. Perhaps it was because of his strange clothes, or maybe because of his hair. Satoru had to admit that the dark shade of color seemed more of a dark blue than pure black. Something he had never seen before.

“Daisuke?”

Satoru looked away from their strange prisoner and found his youngest brother walking up to him. He looked worried, and the way he was toying with one of his sais meant that he was extremely nervous.

“I found him while I was coming back,” the youngest Norisawa replied, knowing his eldest brother was asking for an explanation without actually voicing it. “He looked harmless and sick, but he was trespassing. And... Satoru, I heard strange rumors from the nearby village. People saying a boy defeated one of those monsters...”

The emphasis that Daisuke put on 'those' meant only one thing. He was referring to one of the Sorcerer's monsters. Those beasts weren't just strong and vicious, but their anger was so strong that it made them something extremely dangerous to deal with. Even deadly if someone fought them alone and unprepared.

“He matched the description,” Daisuke continued before anyone else could question him. “A boy wearing strange clothes. I was not sure at first, but then noticed he was merely wearing a hat and dirty rags over them.”

Satoru nodded, glad that his brother was so quick and precise in relating his story. It made things so much easier for him and eliminated the chance of them having the wrong person in their custody.

The child was currently slumped against the wall, with his long legs half folded under him and head bowed. His slow breathing and lack of reaction to his approach told Satoru that the kid was unconscious or at least too weak to do anything at all.

The eldest Norisawa crouched in front of the boy and peered at his face. The skin of his cheeks had a red tint to it, and there was a thin sheet of sweat coating his forehead. They were classic signs of a fever, and this confirmed Daisuke's story of him being sick.

“So this kid was able to kill a monster single handed?” he asked, eyes glancing up at his youngest brother. “How?”

Daisuke cringed, running a hand through his short brown hair. “And this is where things get very strange... He did not kill. He... ah, in the words of the villagers, 'transformed the monster back into a girl'.”

Confusion and noise erupted in the small room, forcing Satoru to raise a hand to silence everyone. Yet the news had been so shocking that the usual quick response from the clan became sluggish and almost reluctant. In all their years of fighting, no one had found a way to save a victim from the Sorcerer's magic.

“And that is not everything,” Daisuke's voice became soft and unsure. Even more than before. “Satoru, you are the best when it comes to hand-to-hand fighting. You have developed an unique style that is different than ours, and...”

Satoru noticed that his youngest brother was looking around with his eyes. He was probably trying to figure out everyone's current mood and thinking how he should deliver the next bit of information without causing even more commotion.

Which was strange, because Daisuke always reported what he knew without taking pauses of any kind. Now he was hesitating a lot, making everyone else in the room nervous and anxious.

“I had a brief struggle with him...” The hesitation was still there, but at least now the youngest Norisawa had found enough courage to continue his tale. “I was doing what Mamoru does when he deals with intruders... keeping him restrained and ask questions. The next thing I know, he... broke free...”

There was nothing strange in what Daisuke had said, and it made Satoru wonder why his little brother was so distraught over the whole thing. If the boy was really a trained warrior, it was possible for him to get free even under those conditions. It was a basic aspect of training.

“He did the same thing you do, Satoru. Same movements, same determination... the differences were minimal, mostly due to the difference in your bodies.”

And now the eldest Norisawa found himself just staring at Daisuke, his rushed words echoing in his mind like a loud gong. Such a thing could not be possible. He had never taught his own style to anyone, and his brothers had developed their own way of fighting centered around their weapons of choice.

Satoru could feel cold sweat run down his back as his mind came to a complete stop. “Are you sure of this?”

Daisuke's only answer was a helpless shrug. He too could not believe what he had been part of, but at the same time he could not deny the fact that he had recognized Satoru's own movements.

“I do not think I could have won if he did not drop unconscious after that,” he said after a while. His eyes were shifting between the unconscious boy and his eldest brother. “For a moment I felt like I was facing you, not a sick kid...”

It was really hard for Satoru to not get up and yell that what he had just heard was fake. He knew Daisuke, and like the rest of his brothers, lying to each other was considered very offensive. One would rather say that they did not feel like talking, that it was a personal issue, or something like that.

But never lie.

His internal debate was disturbed when the boy shifted in his sleep, tilting to the side and starting to fall. The motion was halted when Satoru reached forward without thinking twice, his body acting on a reflex honed by years of training.

It was when his right hand connected with the kid's upper left arm that things took a heavy turn for the supernatural.

Like in one of those scary stories that Daisuke was so fond of, the world of the living melted away and Satoru fell head first through a passage that had no walls. As he was pulled downwards by an unknown force, disconnected words and symbols rushed past his eyes so fast that they were almost a blur.

A loud scream left his throat, but before he could fully comprehend what had just happened, he was back into the real world. The transition was quick, and although feeling of return was not as frightening as the one of falling, it still shocked and disoriented him.

Someone brought into the hallway and he felt glad when they helped him sit down against a wall. “Isamu...” he called softly, too distraught to be bothered at how shaken his voice sounded. He took a moment to swallow the lump in his throat and cradle his aching right arm against his chest.

Isamu was a smart man. Satoru knew he could figure out a lot of things without being told anything at all, and right now it was just what he needed. The experience had left him unable to put into words what he wanted.

The addressed Norisawa, third in line and only a few years younger than Satoru, knelt next to his older brother and gently took the cradled arm into his own hands. With careful movements, the long sleeve was pushed up to reveal a complex pattern of red lines and symbols.

“Mamoru!” Isamu called as soon as he saw the markings. He could hear his older brother halt in his steps, right in the middle of the doorway with his sword drawn. It was typical of him to get rid of anything that endangered the clan's safety. “I know what you are thinking, and I cannot blame you for suspecting the child of using dark magic, but you must not harm him.”

Satoru knew when his brother was onto something. The small frown on his face, the slightly narrowed eyes and that particular tic with his right fingers. It was all part of Isamu's 'I-am-very-close-to-figuring-this-out' set of mind, and it always made him feel more at ease when things were dangerously close to getting out of control.

A deep sigh escaped his lips and Satoru enjoyed when his body finally relaxed against the wooden wall at his back. The ache in his arm was gone, replaced by a dull soreness that spread to every joint in his body. It left him mentally and physically exhausted, and in no conditions to give orders to his clan.

“I need to lay down,” he murmured, banging his head against the wall and wondering what he had just gotten into.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, another work that has been picked up after years of inactivity!  
> Again, you will notice the difference between this and the first two chapters.
> 
> Also, Friendly Reminder: my works are not betaed. Errors and weird things might happen. Do forgive me for those. I'm no professional.

As he woke up, Randy slowly realized how bad he was feeling. He was beyond groggy and weak. Everything ached. From his muscles to his bones, there was not a single piece of him that didn't suffer for his current horrible health conditions. Even getting a hand to his forehead proved to be hard.

“Easy,” someone commanded softly from beside him. “You are still feverish.”

Randy had no idea who the guy that had just spoken was, only that he sounded too young to be his family's doctor. Yet there was something in his voice that spoke of experience and knowledge in taking care of the sick. That fact alone was reassuring, and if someone could be trusted by only hearing them speak, this man was the right one.

“I feel awful...” Randy said after a while. “Like... like I was run over by one of the Sorcerer's monsters a few times. Those things pack a punch even when weakened...”

The man at his side fell into silence, but Randy didn't care. He was too busy trying to forget that his headache existed and to keep under control the sporadic attacks of nausea. Besides, monsters were a common thing in Norrisville and more than once a civilian had been grabbed, pushed or thrown. No one would suspect of him being the Ninja just by saying that.

As for what had really landed him in that situation, he was not entirely sure. He remembered fighting something. A robot, perhaps. Although he had no real recollection of anything metallic glinting in the sun, he was sure it hadn’t been one of the stanked students. The thing’s drive had clearly been to destroy the Ninja rather than causing massive amount of chaos and property damage.

Yes. It must have been one of Viceroy's creations. One that didn't look like a robot, but that was one nonetheless because it had exploded in his face as soon as he cut something wrong during the fight. It had knocked him out and then... a monster in an old village, a horrible cold night and a kid playing ninja trying to cut his head.

He was sure he was missing a lot of details, but he could barely make sense of what he already remembered so he didn't press the matter further.

“I am surprised you still live,” the voice spoke again. It was still held low, mindful of the boy's current state. “I heard of no one surviving such high fever.”

Randy cast his jumbled thoughts aside and looked up at whoever was currently taking care of him. The guy wasn't much taller than him -perhaps a few inches- and his short black hair was standing on end as if the owner had received an electric shock. His dark brown eyes were soft and kind, but still held that critic flair that doctors possessed while visiting patients.

“Who... are you?” Randy struggled with his own tongue, feeling like he was losing control of it. “Where...?”

A wet rag was placed on his forehead, cool and refreshing against the dry burning of his skin. “Do not speak,” the man advised. He retreated a little bit to give the boy personal space. “Rest. There will be time to talk later.”

Randy sent a glare towards the guy, feeling like he was treated like a little kid rather than a teen. It was frustrating, and humiliating. For the better part of last year he had fought alone against monsters, robots, and whatever Norrisville's dark side had to offer. He had been hurt, and had nursed his own wounds himself because there was no way he could go to the hospital. There would be too many questions that he could not answer.

And there was no help coming from Howard either, as he would flip if only he saw a scratch on him.

He still remembered that time when his best friend had called him a shoob for getting a gash on his arm, going as far as saying that he was bad at the job. Truth was, being the Ninja was not as easy as everyone thought it was. Sure, the suit took the burnt of whatever hit him, but not always it saved him from the worst damage.

The faint scars littering his body could attest to that.

A faint chuckle filled the air and Randy returned his attention to the still nameless guy tending to him. He was looking down at him in amusement while his hands were busy twisting another rag free of excessive water. “I cannot answer your questions now.” He took the old piece of cloth away from the boy's forehead and replaced it with the new one. “But rest assured. You are safe within this house and you will be taken care of unless you prove to be a threat to our safety.”

Randy slowly blinked away a drop of water that had crawled into the corner of his eye. “Safe,” he muttered more to himself than to the other. “Safe...”

For some strange reason, Randy believed in the man’s promise. It didn’t matter if he didn’t know his name or if he had never seen him before. Maybe it was just stupid, wistful thinking from his part, or maybe he was just too tired to care. Either way, he felt he could relax and take things slowly. Let his body heal and all that.

Although…

The thought that the Ninja was still needed crossed his mind, thundering loudly like a freight train, and he found himself growing restless once again.

He was the Ninja. He was still needed.

With a heavy sigh upon having this inner realization, Randy struggled to sit up. He ignored the pain, the soreness, and the nausea. He gritted his teeth together, almost to the point of shattering something in his mouth, and cast aside his body's desperate plea for rest.

He could rest once he was sure the city wasn't going to exploded due to his absence.

“Please, do not stand up.” The young man at his side had become instantly alarmed. His hands quickly grabbed the boy by the shoulders to halt his advance and push him back down. “You must rest.”

“No...” Randy muttered, shoving at the offending arms with no result. “You don't understand. I can't leave the city unprotected!”

It was a stupid thing to say as it could reveal his identity as the Ninja, but at that point he didn't care about his own safety anymore. Innocent people always came before his own health, and while one day off the job was alright, more was an absolute no. The Sorcerer would never wait for him to get better.

His outburst had its price, however, and he found himself pinned to the ground by his caretaker's hands. They felt like unmoving blocks of hard steel, and the more he fought against them, the more his energy dwindled away until all that was left was a coughing fit that took his breath away. It felt like a long time before he was rolled on his side, making breathing a much easier task.

One of the young man's hands was holding the boy's shoulder, preventing him from falling flat on his face, while the other was against his back and drawing soothing circles. “Easy,” he said, always with that calm tone of voice of his. “Breathe.”

While a huge part of his mind was still freaking out at leaving Norrisville Ninja-less, Randy still had enough presence of mind to follow the given instructions. Slowly, and almost painfully, he forced his lungs to gain a steady rhythm and go from 'panicked fast' to a more acceptable pace.

When he was finally back in enough control to not kill himself with his own actions, the boy felt his body sag under his own weight. Now there was no way he could stand up to check on the city, and even the Ninja Suit wouldn't be of help. He was just too tired and dazed.

“Have you seen my mask...?”

He was speaking. He knew he was speaking. But the words coming out of his mouth had no filters and his brain simply felt like it had gone offline, cutting ties with the rest of his body. It left him with an autopilot that had no idea where to go.

“I have to find it...”

Randy was rolled onto his back again and the wet rag found its way against his forehead once more. It was a welcomed feeling.

Blue eyes stared at it for a moment, almost crossing all the way, then they turned to look at the young man still sitting by him. His body had duplicated, and one of the images was orbiting around the other in a vague imitation of the moon around the Earth.

“Hey...” Randy greeted as if it was the first time he had seen him. He studied intently the young man's face for a while until a small association of images and words floated to the surface of his mind like a piece of wood in a raging sea of confusion. “You're Tadashi Norisawa!”

Randy never saw his caretaker's reaction, for he was unconscious the moment the name left his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly Reminder: my works are not betaed. Errors and weird things WILL happen despite my best efforts to make it a smooth narrative. Please, do forgive me.

"Satoru!"

Tadashi's frantic call bounced off the thin wooden walls for several moments, resembling the echoes of tormented ghosts that haunted the living. They traveled down the corridor, fading as they went, and disappeared completely when they hit the far wall. The damage was already done, however, and by the time the door to Satoru's room was violently slid open, every single sleeping soul within the Norisawa household was now wide awake.

The young man that had been the origin of the cacophony came to a halt on the threshold, looking as pale as the full moon. He stood there, breathing erratically and too distraught to notice that his eldest brother was far from being his usually presentable self. “He..! He..!” Shaking hands flew into the air, drawing patters that made no sense to the half awake man. “Satoru! He..!”

It took quite a while for Satoru to fight off the last remnants of sleep that clung to his mind, and a little longer to realize that Tadashi was actually having a minor panic attack. The distress was well visible on his young face, and it caused his skin to wrinkle in odd places, adding several years that should not be there.

It was worrying, because as a clan of ninjas devoted to the fall of the Sorcerer, any strong negative emotion, like fear, had long been locked away into the deepest part of their hearts.

“Calm yourself.” Satoru held up a hand in a hopefully placating manner. “And explain yourself.”

The eldest Norisawa motioned for his brother to come inside. He might all be for traditions and rules, but there were times in which those tings needed to be set aside so that more urgent issues could be addressed. And if Tadashi had been scared that much, then whatever had happened needed to be taken care of immediately.

The younger man trudged to the indicated spot with heavy feet, suddenly feeling exhausted. It showed in his slumped shoulders, in his downcast eyes, and it was present in his sigh the moment his knees touched the worn tatami.

“I... Satoru, you must believe me,” he started once he found his voice. “My name has been hidden to the eyes and ears of those that are not of this family. Never once I used it outside of this house. Yet...”

Tadashi stopped speaking, but there was no need for more words to fill the silence between them. Satoru understood perfectly what was going on. Somehow, the child in their care knew their names, or at least he was aware of his younger brother's. It was troubling indeed, as a real name in the wrong hands could cause great damage for the owner.

His hands gripped the blanket still laying on his lap, its rough texture carving faint imprints on his calloused fingers, and Satoru felt the same panic that had taken over Tadashi rise from the pit of his stomach.

“Who is with him now?” Satoru's voice was heavy with worry, almost broken even, and suddenly the night was far colder than it was supposed to be.

It was not every day that their clan experienced a troubled leader, and Tadashi felt deep guilt upon having delivered such bad news. “Rokuro is,” he replied quietly. “He will call for me if something happens.”

The eldest of the Norisawa family gave a curt nod of understanding. His hands released the blanket and reached up to his head to tame his long hair back into a semblance of order behind his ears. “Take turns with Yasushi to take care of the boy,” he said. “The rest of the clan will be on guard duty until we know what is going on. I do not want to be caught off guard if this is truly a ploy to take us by surprise.”

As soon as the orders were spoken, Tadashi left the room at a brisk pace. He still looked troubled, but not as in near panic as he had been upon waking him up. Satoru gave a little smile at the change, which widened when he heard the faint shuffling coming from the nearby rooms. His brothers were already on the move, executing his orders before they could be relayed to them directly.

It was only when silence returned that Satoru reached for his red shirt, wearing it over the black one he always kept on. If his worries were real, then it would be a very long and tiring night for him and the rest of his clan. Still, he was willing to push through any hurdle that he was presented with if it meant he would be able to keep his beloved family safe.

As his mind sorted through concerned thoughts, Satoru let his head fall back and stared up at the dark ceiling of his room. “Let this be not as bleak as it does seem,” he whispered. “I do not wish any harm to come to my brothers. They have all suffered too much as it is.”

A sudden feeling of vertigo took hold of his senses, and before he could do anything about it he found himself sinking through the floor. He struggled to keep himself afloat, his hands desperately clawing at the unnaturally bending surface, but was soon falling into a tunnel that he had briefly seen only once before.

Disjointed symbols rushed past him, sometimes coming so close that they revealed their inky details in a brief glimpse before disappearing behind him. He would have found that fascinating if he wasn't too busy screaming his throat raw out of fear for the whole drop, right until he landed onto a hard surface that appeared out of nowhere. The impact with the ground was harsh, almost bone shattering, and his body suffered horribly for a few long heartbeats. Then the pain receded and became nothing more than a faint memory in the back of his mind.

He sat up, one hand holding his head while the other supported his weight against the surface that felt like old parchment. This was more than just a dream. It was too vivid and real to be a simple machination of his mind, and he silently wondered if this was anything like the visions some of the most powerful shrine priests and maidens were known to have.

But the place was empty, devoid of life beside his own. There were no spirits to communicate with, nor gods to hand over otherworldly knowledge. The only notable things were the characters lazily floating high up into the endless sky, occasionally coming together to form words that did not exist.

“Where am I?”

His voice sounded strained, and Satoru suddenly felt very small. Like a young boy walking into a noble's large palace for the first time. He was lost, alone, and the idea of being stuck there forever scared him despite his best efforts to not be.

A movement in the sky caught his attention, and his eyes were quick in focusing on a bright blue line snaking around the inky characters. It spun and poked them, reminding Satoru of a playful child, then latched onto two symbols with its spires and took a dive.

The strand of color impacted with the ground right in front of Satoru, but instead of causing tremors or creating a hole, it harmlessly passed through the surface and left behind the prize it had snatched out of the sky. They spun lazily for a moment, then righted themselves so that he could easily read them.

Satoru leaned forward tentatively, fighting with his own emotions to stare at the strange display of what he could only consider as an attempt at communication. “Wisdom..?” he asked into the empty air.

He almost reached for the word with a shaky hand, but retreated back in fright when more lines fell from the sky, aiming at the same spot the first one had chosen. As they flashed past in front of his eyes, he could see orange, bright green, light pink, yellow, and more blue. They all came down soundlessly, going through the floor the instant they reached it, and left behind more symbols that briefly spun on the spot like drunk dancers.

“Wisdom has no meaning,” Satoru read aloud as the letters came to a stop. “Without an understanding heart.”

He sat there, confused and perhaps a bit baffled about the message he had just been given.

“What...” he whispered. His voice was breathless, and he felt his lips become drier with each intake of air he took. “What does this mean?”

It had no sense. Wisdom always had a meaning, be it big or small. There was always truth in it that, if applied to every day life, would lead to a righteous life. Even without an understanding heart, whatever that meant.

As if offended by his own apparent inability to understand, the ground shook violently. It creased and ripped, forcing Satoru to struggle to maintain a balance that should have been perfectly stable while sitting down. It was terrifying, especially so when the papery floor under him collapsed entirely and he fell into the endless abyss below, arms and legs windmilling helplessly in search of something solid to grasp.

He screamed. Perhaps louder than before even if he was not entirely sure while the whistling of an ethereal wind filled his ears.

And a mere moment later he was back in his room, with fading black spots filling his sight and obscuring the candlelit ceiling of his room. He blinked, not remembering having lit anything before, and a small part of his mind, the one that wasn't utterly freaking out, wondered if one of his brothers had found him.

He hoped it hadn't been Mamoru. The poor guy had been traumatized enough in his youth, and seeing one of his brothers laying on the ground like that, or missing entirely from the house if it hadn't just been a mental trip, would break him. It didn't matter if they were all prepared for any eventual loss due to their job, the second oldest of the Norisawa clan would suffer the most.

Thankfully he was back, even if stiff, dazed and still with fear lingering in the back of his mind.

A gentle poking against his left forearm rose him from his jumbled thoughts, awakening some sort of soreness in the limb. He twitched awkwardly, hoping the movement would dislodge whatever was against his skin so that the annoying feeling could subside back in the recesses of both his mind and body.

The following loud intake of air came as a surprise, though, and Satoru rolled his head sideways to look at the source.

“Satoru! Brother!”

In the candlelight, Isamu seemed to look more sickly than he usually was. The shadows on his face really brought out the signs of mild starvation that he suffered everyday, and his long light brown hair hung lifelessly around his shoulders, appearing gray in the dim light. Overall, he looked like an elderly person rather than a young man in his twenties.

Still, the smile appearing on his thin lips gave Satoru a sense of peace that he held onto for as long as he could. “Isamu,” he greeted. His voice sounded funny in his ears, and he wondered if it had been because of all the screaming he had done. “What happened?”

Satoru knew what had happened. He had been thrown into a really vivid vision for a message that he could still not figure out. But he wanted to hear it from the others, too, and wanted to know for how long he had been away.

“We never saw you come, Satoru,” Isamu replied. He dropped the parchment he was holding onto the ground, careful of the small candle next to him. “Daisuke came to look for you, and found you... passed out. You were breathing, your eyes were open, but you were not responding at all. And...”

Isamu reached for his brother's left arm and held it up so that Satoru could see it. The markings that had appeared two days ago upon contact with the child in their care were shining. The red light was soft, almost unnoticeable, and it was slowly receding back to its dormant form.

“It was emitting an intense light,” the younger man said, nodding at it and letting Satoru bring his arm closer for better inspection. “I still have not understood what this is for, but it is clear that it is connected to whatever happened to you.”

The eldest Norisawa dropped his arm back to his side. “I believe it was a vision.” He closed his eyes, feeling mentally exhausted. Yet his body was recovering from the ordeal with an almost unnatural speed, and he was grateful for that small grace. “Wisdom has no meaning without an understanding heart.”

The door to his room opened, and both men watched as Daisuke came to an abrupt halt upon seeing Satoru awake. He smiled, and the tension that had been visible on his shoulders disappeared. “You are awake,” he whispered. “I am so glad. I need to inform the others!”

Satoru winced and would have banged his head against the small pillow if he wasn't already lying down. “Please do.” He sat up, frowning when his limbs still retained a faint stiffness to them. “I am sure they are all worried. Mamoru in particular.”

“Daisuke,” Isamu called before the youngest of the clan could disappear to deliver the good news to the rest of the clan. “Did you check the child?”

Halted from carrying out Satoru's request, Daisuke looked at the two men in the room in awkward confusion until Isamu's words finally registered in his mind. “Oh... Oh! Yes! I did,” he replied, his smile back on his face. His right hand reached up and started to fiddle with one of the sai he was carrying on his belt. “You were right, Isamu. Rokuro and Tadashi confirmed seeing the red markings shine.”

Satoru breathed deeply and leaned forwards to cradle his face in his hands. His hair fell around his fingers in a disarray, creating a curtain that hid his eyes from the searching gaze of his brothers. “Thank you, Daisuke,” he said after a while, knowing that the youngest of his brothers was still hovering around in worry. “Go on, deliver your message. And keep Mamoru away from our... guest. No harm shall befall him until I order so.”

Even after all that had happened that night, he still couldn't consider the strange kid as a prisoner. Despite the mystery surrounding him, he still hadn't caused any conscious harm to his family, and maybe he was as much a victim to this supernatural affair as he was.

After all, two magic seals activating at the same moment was no coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers, I'm not one to ask for reviews, but I do find myself in a... transitory phase of sort with my writing style. I try to evolve it so that it becomes more... uh... smooth, shall we say, and I really need to know if I'm succeeding or if I'm failing this goal.  
> Is the narrative smooth? Or is it clunky and without sense?  
> Please, do let me know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly Reminder: My works are not betaed. Errors and weird things will happen. Please, do forgive me. I try my best to make things smooth and not confusing.

As he trudged through the darkened hallways of the house, Randy realized how much of a bad idea this was. His legs felt like a weird mix of jello and lead, making each step that he took a struggle, and both his head and throat ached horribly. Yet, despite his pleas to just go back to the comfort of the cot he had first woken in, he was forced to move with a mere blanket around his shoulders as the sole comfort against the evening's chill.

“I still think your boss should have been the one visiting me.” His voice was hoarse, and with each word the dryness worsened. “I thought I was safe here, but now I feel like I'm slowly walking to my death...”

Randy knew he was being difficult and whiny, perhaps a bit too much, but at the moment he didn't care. He even ignored the small flare of guilt he felt upon remembering how these people had taken care of him for the past week, feeding him and making sure he was comfortable during his sick days.

“My apologies,” Tadashi spoke in quiet resignation. One of his hands was firmly grasping the boy's arm, steadying him whenever his legs could not sustain his weight. “I advised against this, but our leader has his reasons. Rest assured, however, that if I see you are too unwell, I will step in.”

A snort erupted from Randy's sore throat, forcing him into a light fit of coughs that racked his already weakened body. “You know,” he started once he calmed down enough to take steady breaths. “You don't look too convinced about this whole thing, so why don't you just let me go back to that bed? I promise that when I feel better, I'll go see him if he wants it that bad.”

He didn't know Tadashi that well. All their interactions had been more about questioning his current health rather than really getting to know each other. Still, there had been enough tidbits here and there to let him know that the older male took his job more seriously than his own family doctor. That he had agreed to this whole dragging-him-around thing meant that he either considered him to be well enough, or that he had been nagged far too much for comfort.

Considering the worried glances he was getting at the moment, Randy bet on the latter.

“Tadashi...” the boy called after a few more struggled steps. A small part of his mind was still wondering where he had heard the other's name, or why he was so sure to know him so well despite never seeing him before. “Can we... can we stop for a minute?”

Randy was not sure if it was the floor that came rushing up to him, or if he had been the one to go meet it headfirst. All he knew was that at one point before he could greet the old wood with his face, strong arms wrapped around his middle and stopped his descent. He was grateful for that, but at the same time very embarrassed that he needed the help in the first place.

“This is so...” he muttered between groans of discomfort. “Humiliating... I'm supposed to be well enough to walk on my own...”

“You had a severe fever for four days,” Tadashi replied calmly. “Your inability to walk is within expectations.”

The boy grunted dismissively, then let out a squeak of protest when he was easily picked up into the other's arms. He struggled weakly, muttering about being well enough to walk on his own, but only succeeded in losing the comfort of the cover wrapped around his shoulders. When the cold autumn air reminded him that he was wearing only his pants, Randy was quick in calming down and reach for the edges of the blanket to cover himself up again.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, far from being pleased. “I get it. You win. Let's go see your boss or whatever, hear what he has to say and go back to bed.”

Tadashi laughed gently, making his light voice echo into the empty hallway for a few moments. “You are an interesting child,” he said. “You are not afraid when children of your age should be. Fourteen might be an age of coming, but it still holds onto childhood.”

They resumed moving, and Randy sunk into the cocoon to hide his flushed face from view. “At this point, I think I've seen enough to make me a veteran...” he muttered sarcastically. It was meant to be more for himself than for the other, yet Tadashi seemed to catch it anyway. Still, the young man did not comment on it and Randy was very happy to snuggle into the blanket and let the matter drop into oblivion.

The silence lasted until they reached a partially open door, stopping on the threshold so that Tadashi could let Randy stand back onto his feet. “He is expecting you,” the young man informed him. “I will be here in case you need me.”

Randy wobbled on his feet for a moment, wondering if he should go inside or wait for permission. It seemed to be an unspoken rule of these people to stop at the door and ask to enter, and the only time Tadashi hadn't done that was when he came in to help him not choke while he was throwing up.

“Can't you come in too?” he asked, casting pleading eyes up to the only person he was familiar with in that house. “You can stay in the corner or something.”

The amused, yet apologetic face of the young man standing next to him told Randy the answer he needed. Whatever this leader guy wanted, he wanted it to be between the two of them only. Tadashi would have to stay outside and make sure he wasn't listening in unless he was called upon.

Shoulders slumped and hands gripping the blanket around his body, the boy suddenly felt less sure about the meeting. He didn't want to face this alone. Not when he had no idea where he was and had no weapons with him.

“Weapons... yeah... sure...” he scoffed, one bare foot scuffing against the aged floor. “As if they'd let me carry them around...”

The knowledge of not having his mask and the Nomicon was really taking a toll on his nerves, making him feel almost naked. He knew he could deal with stuff even without the power of the suit or the advice of an eight hundred year old book, but it still was not a pleasant experience to know he could rely on his strength and wit alone to get out of this.

A hand pressed against his back, breaking him out of his jumbled thoughts, and he was suddenly pushed into the room against his own will. He stumbled and almost tripped on the length of the blanket, then cast a worried glance at the closing door the moment he knew he wasn't going to fall flat on the ground.

“You will be fine,” Tadashi whispered from behind the sliding door. “As long as you answer truthfully, you will not be harmed.”

That sounded less reassuring in his ears than what Tadashi might have intended it to be. He could answer questions if that was all that they wanted, but the fact that he had to keep his job as the Ninja a secret would force him to lie about certain things.

Like how he ended up there in the first place.

Not that he could answer that anyway, as he was still vague on the chain of event that brought him to this strange family.

Maybe he could be vague, or tell the story and pretend he was a bystander caught in the fight. Maybe he could just say that he was lost and omit the entire part where the robot was involved. Or maybe he could come up with a random story and really test his lying skills, and see if some random person would buy it.

“Please,” someone from behind him said. “Have a seat.”

Every half formed plan Randy had thought disappeared, leaving his mind empty save for the spoken words that had just filled the silence. “Oh, boy...” he muttered. He knew that voice. There was no way he could mistake that kind of deep tone that had spoken to him several times through the Nomicon. “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy...”

He slowly turned around, almost jerkily because his legs refused to comply, and came face to face with the one person he admired most.

Satoru Norisawa. The First Ninja. The one that had written the NinjaNomicon and had indirectly taught him all he knew about surviving the daily attacks. A man whose legend was forgotten by everyone but his successors during their time as the Ninja of Norrisville.

“This... is not real...” Randy whispered. He chose to ignore the invitation in favor of staring at the one sitting on the other side of the room. “This can't be real. It has to be a joke. Yeah. A joke. A bad joke from the Nomicon. That book has no idea what a good joke is... right?”

The stress of being in front of the legendary warrior was taking its toll on his already tired body, and it forced Randy to slowly sink down to the ground in an awkward heap of half sitting, half kneeling. His eyes never strayed away from the man, taking in all the details he had only seen once outside of the familiar suit.

“Wait!” Randy suddenly perked up as a small idea wormed itself into the forefront of his mind. He shuffled forwards and came near the other enough to have a conversation without having to yell. “This is one of your weird lessons, isn't it? Alright, lay it on me. I'm listening.”

He sat there, still as a stone, waiting and hoping. But when no lesson came, his smile dropped into a confused frown. “Oh come on!” he whined. “You trap me in here for a week and you don't even give me an explanation? Come on, Nomicon. I'm fine now. You can give me whatever advice you got and you can let me out. I won't die! I promise!”

After his outburst ended, Randy stared intently at the figure of the First Ninja. There had been no change in his expression, no raised eyebrow in silent questioning or a sigh of frustration. There were no doodles either, no giant samurais in armor to slap him on the head, or a rumble coming from everywhere to indicate that the Nomicon was done with his idiocy.

There was only silence and the sharp stare of the man in front of him.

“Ok, alright.” Randy's frown deepened and he started to look around in search of any indication this was something happening within the book. “This is not fun at all, Nomicon. Please, let me out now?”

“I assure you,” the First Ninja said, drawing Randy's attention back to him. “That this is no joke.”


End file.
